Hard to Hide
by Stellata
Summary: Hermione didn't know when she started thinking about a certain someone more often than she thought about schoolwork. But it was a problem, and it wasn't going to go away on its own. Romance fic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This universe does not belong to me, I'm merely playing with it for pure enjoyment.

* * *

Hermione didn't know when she started thinking about a certain someone more often than she thought about schoolwork.

* * *

Maybe it was the same day that he'd first worn a tight fitting shirt instead of a loose one. She'd paused in mid-step when she saw him that morning.

"You okay, Hermione?" He had asked.

"Fine," she had answered too quickly.

"You look pretty today," he had said casually.

"Oh! Thanks," Hermione had said as normally as possible. "Nice shirt."

Of course, what she had wanted to say was '_That shirt makes me want to snog you senseless, right in the Great Hall, and not care what anybody says.'_

He'd just smiled at her, eyes crinkling in that cute way they always did when someone complimented him.

The next week he had another shirt in the same style, and then the next day, the same thing... He had changed his wardrobe to wear those snug tee shirts all the time.

It drove Hermione to frustration.

* * *

Or maybe it was the day he'd caught her trying to rub her own shoulder.

"Hey, let me have a go," he'd offered a smile, and sat down to give her a massage.

Hermione had opened her mouth to protest when his hand descended and began to squeeze and rub, wiping away all of the tension.

"Oh, you've got some knots," he'd said, worrying about her. "How do you get so tense?"

She loved that he didn't assume it was from stress, as anyone else would have done. Most of her friends would tell her at this point that she needed to stop worrying all the time and just relax. No, he accepted her just the way she was. He didn't need or want her to change.

Hermione had felt her muscles relax, and still he didn't stop. His touches made her tingle pleasantly, and she felt half ready to kiss him and half ready to slip off into sleep.

"How's that?" He finally stopped and pulled her gently against him.

"Perfect," she sighed, leaning her head against his side.

His hand came up to stroke her hair, and within moments she was asleep, dreaming of him smiling at her, holding her and touching her gently again with those hands.

She thanked him when she woke from her little nap, and he just smiled.

"You deserve it, Hermione," he told, his voice sounding just as it always did when he was at his most sincere.

Hermione didn't ask for a back rub again, but four nights later he came to her again with the same offer. Shyly, she accepted again.

It soon became a ritual - every Tuesday and Friday night, he would come and sit with her. She knew to finish up her work beforehand, because she couldn't think of anything else when he touched her like that. Hermione came to treasure those nights above all others.

Every time he held her close her hopes soared. But those hopes inevitably burst again when it was over.

* * *

Or perhaps it was that cool morning in early November when he had taken her walking by the greenhouses.

He'd taken her hand the minute they left the castle. She loved the feel of his hand around hers, warm and solid and comforting.

They talked quietly, of class and classmates and teacher troubles - there were quite a few of the latter this year. Hopes and worries - she shared everything with him...

Everything except the fact that she knew she was falling in love with him, and she didn't know how to step away from the cliff. Revealing herself would be a terrible fall, but the build up was so amazing, that she was tempted to make that leap that day.

They had walked through some taller grasses, and his shoe had struck something hard. He had been curious, and reached down to pick it up.

It was a stone - but it looked as beautiful as a gem.

"Oh my," Hermione had breathed.

Colors danced over the cool surface - cool purples, warm reds, dark blues, sparkling golds, and light, flashing greens.

"What is it?" Hermione asked as he looked at the stone in silence.

"A cerycesian. Part of the broken shell of a gryphon egg. Professor Grubbly-Plank showed us a tiny piece of one when we covered gryphons last month. They're very rare, and very prized as potions ingredients."

"How could it get here?" Hermione mused.

He was the only person who didn't lord extra knowledge over her. Ron was always delighted when he found out he knew something Hermione didn't - usually some obscure wizarding tradition that Hermione couldn't learn from a book. Ron would crow about it loudly, and everyone else would smile in amusement - everyone but him.

But he didn't try to hurt her with knowledge. So Hermione loved learning from him.

"I don't know, gryphons usually drop them over the ocean..." He mused. "An instinct, or a tradition, I think. So why would it be way out here, at Hogwarts? I reckon someone would have spotted a gryphon."

"They are hard to hide," Hermione agreed.

He laughed, a kind, happy laugh, and Hermione's heart leapt again. She loved being able to make him laugh like that.

"Take it and put it somewhere special," he told her, pressing it into her hand.

Hermione tried to push it back, but he gently closed her hand over the cerycesian.

"I mean it, its a gift. Do what you will with it."

So she took it, brought it back to her room. She tucked it into her jewelry box, along with the sapphire pin from her grandmother, the pearl earrings from her mother, and the exquisitely painted pendant she'd found on the shores of Sicily.

Hermione made a point to look at it every week, when she wanted a reminder of how he felt about her. She knew he cared about her, even if it was platonic - on his part.

For a while it was enough to appreciate their friendship.

* * *

But the problem was it had gotten to be too much. She was positively brimming with emotion every time they talked. Every conversation held a double meaning for her. Every touch meant more to her than it should have meant to a friend.

When Hermione realized she spent more time thinking about him than doing her school work, she was appalled with herself.

That was only briefly.

Then she realized why that must be the case.

She must be in love with him.

Feeling the truth in the words she whispered for her ears only, said in a stolen moment between classes, Hermione shivered.

She had to tell him. It was well past time.

Hermione Granger was going to be brave, even if only for once before she snuck back into a corner and hid her feelings under the cover of the largest book the library owned.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This universe does not belong to me, I'm merely playing with it for pure enjoyment.

* * *

Harry knew exactly when he began to think about Hermione as more than a friend.

* * *

They were sitting side by side on a couch in the Gryffindor Common Room... Hermione had been leaning on his shoulder while she read aloud their Transfiguration chapter. That in itself should have been innocent enough.

Harry shifted to be more comfortable, and wrapped an arm around Hermione's back to get adjusted. She had let out a little sigh of contentment, and leaned back. Before Harry realized what had happened, he was lying down on his side with Hermione pressed up against him like a second skin. His arm draped over her, and she moved her hand a little before starting to read again, her voice a little lower, but still perfectly audible.

Harry had closed his eyes.

Hermione was warm and perfect against him. Harry suddenly remembered the teddy bear he'd had at age seven. Aunt Petunia had let him take it from the donation box - and Harry had treasured it for three weeks. Then Dudley had found it and decided it would be fun to cut it to pieces with his new pair of scissors. Harry had never had another stuffed animal. It knew it would hurt too much to get attached to it when it would only be taken away from him.

Harry had dreamed about that teddy bear for years, until the end of his first year at Hogwarts. Then he hadn't needed the memories of a teddy, for he had known the feeling of being held by someone - by Hermione. In the moment before Harry had faced what he was sure would be his own death, Hermione have given him the most precious gift she could - a hug.

From then on he fell asleep dreaming of someone to hold, to have as his own. Hermione was his friend, and their bond had only grown deeper in the years to come. It was natural to think of his friend even as he dreamed - and until that night in the Common Room, Harry had never given a second thought to the fact that he always dreamed of Hermione.

Her soft, calm voice was a soothing balm to Harry's tired ears. Her left hand snuck up to hold onto his right hand, and their fingers gently interlaced. Harry smiled as he breathed in the smell of the light citrus shampoo Hermione used on her hair.

_I want to stay like this forever._ Harry thought wistfully. He could see them in their future, curled up in a living room on a couch in front of the fireplace, just like this, only it was in their own house. They would hold each other and talk of everything, just as they did now.

She would be his and he would be completely hers.

Harry would stroke Hermione's hands and play with her hair; Hermione would take off his glasses for him and gently push his bangs back. Harry would drop a light kiss on the top of her head, or her cheek, or her lips...

Harry's mouth went dry at that thought, and suddenly everything fit into place.

For a long time, he had gone to different people for different things - Ron for casual friendship, Hermione for a deeper one that required less small talk, Hagrid and Sirius for advice, Cho for a physical attraction...

With Hermione, he had everything. Including that last one. The thing with Cho hadn't been a mistake, it had just been a lesson for him. Every relationship he'd ever had was building up to this - this perfect melding of minds and hearts and bodies...

Harry shivered. Oh, wow. Yes, he wanted Hermione's body. To embrace her like the most perfect teddy bear that ever existed, to hold her hand like it was more important than his wand, to kiss and caress her and undress her...

It was a bad idea to be thinking of that when he was spooning Hermione.

"Harry? You shivered," Hermione said, turning her head slightly to look at him.

"'m okay," Harry said lowly, pushing all intimate thoughts from his mind before his body could betray him. He sighed and pulled Hermione more firmly against him, dropping her hand and wrapping his arm snugly around her belly.

"Please keep reading," Harry whispered.

Hermione glanced at his lidded eyes and smiled.

"You're falling asleep, Harry."

"Love your voice," Harry said softly and let his eyes fall shut. "Don't stop..."

With his eyes closed, he missed the shining look in Hermione's eyes.

* * *

Harry couldn't forget that he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. He couldn't fall out of love with her, and he didn't think he ever could. But she was so amazing, so wonderful, that Harry was convinced she wouldn't love him back.

He would go on as he had, being the best friend he possibly could be to her. He would take what he could - the hugs, the hand holding, the all too rare kisses on his cheek.

Harry managed to believe friendship would be enough for him. He believed it for three entire months.

Then March came, and he was close to breaking. Every moment he touched her, he wanted to kiss her.

Harry offered her back massages twice a week, and she was so friendly and thankful that he felt guilty. She had no idea how much he enjoyed touching her warm, soft skin. He was a terrible person.

She was everywhere, and Harry loved it and hated it. It was too much, and not enough. His heart soared and crashed daily, often more than once.

There was only one way not to mess this up completely. He had to tell her how he felt. She would never return his feelings, but she would be kind, and try to break his heart as gently as possible.

Harry Potter had faced an untamed dragon and come out relatively unscathed. He had come inches from having his soul sucked out by a Dementor. He had fought with Voldemort, the nastiest wizard of at least the past fifty years, and lived to tell the tale.

But Harry had never been this terrified, or this sure of failure.

So steeling up what little courage he possessed, Harry went to find Hermione and confess his feelings.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: No, this doesn't belong to me.

A/N: Set during 6th year.

* * *

It was the simplest of days - a Wednesday, nothing special.

Harry stood by the fireplace in the Common Room, watching as Hermione walked over to stand by him.

His heart was pounding, and he feared she could hear it.

Green eyes met brown ones as they spent a minute just looking at each other.

There she stood, Harry sighed to himself - not only the best person he knew, whose goodness and intelligence he only hoped to live up to, but just confidence and beauty personified.

He had decided to tell Hermione… But now the words were not coming to his lips. Harry did not dare say those words aching to come out: _I love you._

He had rarely known Hermione to be silent, but there she was, saying nothing, just looking at him with an unreadable expression. She looked - intent.

Did she have any idea, Harry wondered, just how much she was loved?

He wanted to tell her, simply, that he hadn't talked to her since breakfast - and that he had missed her.

He wanted to tell her that he couldn't stand going another day without knowing what her lips tasted like.

He just wanted to tell her that he could power a thousand Patroni every time she reached to hold his hand.

But if he said anything… What would she say? He didn't know what she was thinking. Would she deny him? Hate him? No, she never would, but she would pity him. That would be a worse fate than death.

"Hermione," Harry said, breaking the silence.

The brunette nodded, her lips turning up in a smile.

"Harry."

He searched for something to say, tossed out all of his ideas, and simply stared as Hermione walked up to him and took his face in both of her hands, and kissed him on the mouth.

A wave of pleasure and love washed over him, overwhelming everything else - his surprise, incredulity, and utter disbelief.

Slowly, as he kissed back, his eyes open to glance at her, Harry could see a reflection of his own feelings in her eyes.

Could it be love? He certainly hoped so.

The kiss lasted an eternity.

Hermione smiled.

"I've been wanting to do that for ages," she breathed.

"Me too." Harry answered simply. He was entirely grateful that Hermione had been a true Gryffindor and taken the first step.

"Be mine?" Harry took the second step.

"Already am," Hermione admitted.

"Then we're even." Harry smiled, holding both of her hands in his own.

"Fabulous." Hermione sighed before melting into another kiss, initiated by her new boyfriend.

As he held Hermione in his arms, Harry could see the future stretching out before them.

It looked fantastic.

* * *

Everything that had seemed difficult to Harry mere weeks ago now flew by easily. Tests, Defense class with Snape, worrying about Voldemort…

Why was it all so simple now? Because Harry had Hermione.

"Earth to Harry," Ron said loudly, in the grumble he had used so often lately.

Harry wasn't stupid - he knew Ron had feelings for Hermione - more than friendly feelings. But he was sure that Ron's feelings were nowhere near as strong as his own. Anyways, Harry knew he was lucky enough to have Hermione love him in return - she didn't love Ron the same way.

"Yeah?" Harry was still grinning. He had been thinking about Hermione…

"You going to help me with this?" Ron scowled.

Suddenly resenting Ron's attitude, Harry sat up.

"I finished my work an hour ago. You need to figure it out on your own, or you'll never pass your tests."

Ron's mouth dropped open.

"You sound just like _her_," Ron said bitterly.

"Don't talk about her like that," Harry said quietly.

"Oh, but you knew right away who I was talking about, didn't you?"

"Because I've heard your piss poor attitude towards her for six years," Harry snapped, standing and towering over the seated Ron. "It's got to stop, Ron. Stop insulting her, stop undercutting her accomplishments - or I will have to…" He wasn't able to finish the sentence, but the message had gotten through.

"So that's it - you've sided with her?" Ron accused.

"You've _made _me," Harry shook his head. "If you didn't start fights with her all the time, I wouldn't have to take sides. Grow up and learn to be a better friend to her."

"I can't," Ron snarled. "You took that away from me."

Understanding, Harry sighed.

"I didn't _take_ anything, Ron. Hermione is not _something_ to _take_. She is a person - a woman - and to my great fortune, she chose to be with me."

"You always get everything," Ron said, his voice lowering and sounding simply sad. "Everything I ever wanted."

"Fame, popularity - I only got that because I lost my family," Harry pointed out calmly. "The only thing worth having in life is people to love, Ron. You have your family, Ron, remember that! One day you'll find someone to love the same way I love Hermione."

"You love her," Ron whispered, looking as if he'd been slapped in the face.

"Yes, I do. And she loves me."

Ron looked rather broken.

"That's what hurts, Harry. The one person I thought I was falling in love with… Fell in love with my best friend instead."

"I'm sorry." Harry looked at him.

"It's not your fault," Ron shrugged. "I shouldn't have yelled."

"It's not your…" Harry broke off and looked at Ron.

Feeling a lot like it was 4th year again, Harry and Ron grinned at each other.

"Come on, you great git," Ron declared. "Let's go play some quidditch."

And just like that, Harry knew the trio would be okay.


End file.
